The One that Got Away
by All.Is.Now.Harmed
Summary: "They drifted apart, the distance only driving a subtle and unforeseen wedge between them. She loved him. She allowed herself to be vulnerable in his eyes and that is something she'd never done with pervious boyfriends, calling just a boyfriend was a definite understatement for he was simply so much more than that. But yet, he was just that." (One-Shot, for now)(Bellarke)


...

 **The One That Got Away**

It was a simpler time. Or so she tells herself when ever when the thought of him crosses her mind. But for some reason—she doesn't quite understand, the sting from the breakup still feels fresh within her.

They met the summer she graduated, at the university's coffee shop. He was a couple years older, but that was never an issue for she realized she wanted someone with a maturity level higher than hers, or so, she thought that was the case.

He was taking orders when she walked right up and requested a job, flyer in hand, the whole deal. "You know this is the twenty-first century, no?" He asked with a light smirk as his eyes darted from the pretty blond before him and the paper she was holding. But she wasn't intimidated by his snarky comment, in fact, she took a step forward and revealed a smile of her own. "Oh, I'm well aware." She stated with such confidence something sparked within him.

"Then you must realize that we don't accept personal resume's any longer—everything done online now-a-days, Princess."

But the blond before him just nodded, then tipped her head as she continued. "Oh, I applied for a position online," She started as Bellamy shot her an amused look and attempted to make himself look busy before her by rummaging with a few orders to the side.

"I'm just confused as to why I wasn't offered the barista position quite yet." She continued not letting up as the person behind her clear his throat rather loudly.

"Look, are you gonna order something because there's a long line—"

"I have years of experience, perfect attendance and flexible hours." She trailed off making direct eye contact with him. "So… enlighten me. Also, a shot of expresso over ice, please." She cheekily adds.

Staring down at this Blond girl before him, who he decided was a freshman judging from the innocent expression, and coiled smile on her face, Bellamy had never been so amused. But he goes to make her drink away as she lingers around the counter.

"I'm not the owner here, Princess. I don't make the decisions." He mumbled then tearing his eyes from the gear girl and back to work, but Clarke wouldn't hesitate.

"Oh I know that." She insisted following him around the counter.

"Then why did you come to me?" He questions in confusion.

"Because I know you can put in a good word for me." She simply states.

"And why would I do that?" There's a witty smile upon his face as he slides her her drink.

"Because I bought you coffee." She states sliding the cup back to him. Bellamy just looks up at her in a mixture surprise and confusion. "You do realize I work in a coffee shop, right?"

"Okay, by now you have to had noticed that I'm a little more perceptive than you make me out to be…" She squints, glancing at the name tag on his apron. "Bellamy. And yes, but the gesture's always nice… I take it you drink expressos? I mean, judging by the bags under you eyes that were in no doubt caused by something other than heavy doses of caffeine and no proper rest." She flashed an award winning Griffin smile and turned around to exit.

Hopefully this tactic would work, because although effective in one matter or the other, some people did not find this process charming.

"You know, you forgot to tell me one thing!" The tall brooding bartsia shouted as she marched away. But she turned upon his statement lingering the frame of the front door.

"And what's that?"

"Your name." He inquired.

"Clarke Griffin." She replied trying not to let her excitement show.

And three days after that, she's hired. And the rest is history—well not really. In fact everything between her and Bellamy is a little untraditional.

Although she doesn't intend on starting anything, nothing happens her first week there. Mainly because he stated he was involved with someone and mainly because it wasn't her intention in the first place, he was just a bonus, but she can't notice their flirtatious outburst and natured witty bicker.

It'd been a while since she felt anything like that.

The weeks pass by, the early acceptance period is over and the normal freshman crowd slowly seeps in as summer almost comes to an end. By this time Bellamy and his involvement are long gone and he and Clarke have the occasional make out in his black mustang after shift. But that's the extent of the relationship at the moment, just heavy make out sessions and long car rides to nowhere.

It's the best summer of her life.

It's filled with flashes of the hot summer sun, stolen kisses, agonizing classes and mini road trips. She's never felt so free, and destined. And she has to admit it's also Bellamy's fault.

Her favorite trip is to a little sea side art town by the name of Carmel, it's quite the drive from Berkley, and something she never knew existed before Bellamy surprised her one early Saturday morning. The tiny character shops filled with fine art and sculptors inspired the artist inside her, and the small resident cottages made her feel like she was in a fairytale. It was the perfect little town.

"I like that one." Clarke points out from where they're sitting on a blanket on the beach. But instead of facing the vast pacific ocean before them like everyone else, they're the opposite, taking in the architectural beauty of the quaint little town.

Bellamy nods then scammed the row before them. "I like that one." He points before turning back to her.

"We can live here one day." He finds himself mumbling. And instantly Clarke pauses, taking moment to digest of she heard him correctly. "You know you can't say that kind of stuff if you don't mean it."

"Oh I mean it." He explains in complete relief she didn't freak out. He hadn't meant to say it, not really. It was just something that crossed his mind and slipped his tongue.

After all they'd just met three months prior.

"Oh this is gonna hurt, isn't it?!" Clarke squeezed as the sterilized needle filled with ink approached her. She was sitting in a tattoo parlor at one am in the morning holding her hair up to the side as the bulky man with the ink gun came at the space between her hairline right behind her ear.

"Is this a good idea?" She questioned aloud as Bellamy who was next sat beside her and tried to not mock her nervousness.

"That doesn't matter. Foolishness is good." He reminded her something he basically repeated the whole summer. "The question is do you want to do this?"

Clarke nodded. There wasn't anything she wanted to do more. It was the weekend after midterms, and three day's after her birthday.

"Just do it." She mumbled uneasily as Bellamy held her hand.

And at the end of the night both were branded with a small, simple matching tattoo. Her's of a queen's crown, behind her ear, and his a kings. It was perfect actually for after they made the two and a half hour trip down to Carmel with a bottle of tequila and danced on the beach engulfed in darkness, before falling asleep on a blanket in the open air.

He talked about his passion for history, how he planned to get a job in Berkeley after he graduated the following year, and how she should move in with him and skip out on the residential dorm fee's. She agreed thinking nothing of it. They wishfully planned the night away and by morning when they were awakened by a fresh ocean breeze, reality set in.

They walked the small little town passing by the same shops and passing by that same abstract painting by some Romanian artist named Gerogescu. It was something beautiful and captivating for Clarke merely gawked at it every time they passed by. The background was a variation brilliant shades of blue with natural strokes of colorful arctic paint layered around the center drawing the eye in and giving it's viewer a sense of obsolete peace and serenity. She couldn't help but long to see it everyday. But the painting cost about as much as a new computer so it was out of the question, but the idea of it wasn't bad.

They made it to finals, then winter break and Christmas rolled around where had made a rule only to one one thing for the other. And now that Bellamy had finally moved into his new apartment and out of the dorm system the limit was lifted for Christmas. They chopped down a christmas tree at a ranch miles from campus, and invited their friends for a non-traditional pizza christmas dinner.

It was the three day's before Christmas when Clarke bluntly lied to his face about having an extra shift at the coffee shop as she went to the airport to pick his younger sister up.

And when he came through the door after class that day she sat him down and explained she had to give him is christmas present early this year and everything would be explained when he saw it. He was expecting a drawing of something or a healthcare plan—something Clarke-ish, but when he saw his sister walk into the living room from the hallway his heart dropped, never feeling so grateful for his girlfriend.

"Merry Christmas, Bell."

The holidays were spent joyously that year. Clarke's love of christmas was something Bellamy never really uncovered so it came to a surprise when she was really into decorating the place and making cookies, dragging is sister along as he showed his potential as a teacher assistant grading papers for his favorite history professors at the kitchen table.

One of his favorite parts of Christmas that year was giving her his gift. The moment he brought it our from his closet large thin and rectangular Clarke new what it was. She froze for a moment gathering her thoughts as Bellamy approached her, she took a seat on the couch behind her, her hands covering her mouth in near shock and realization of his love for her. "I don't even have to open it." She mumbled.

"You don't." Bellamy pointed out. "But I'm pretty sure that's its purpose."

And so she did. And she could barely believe what she was seeing. Georgescu's acrylic abstract laid perfectly before her on the coffee table.

Tears sprung to her eyes for Bellamy had no idea of the full extent that painting had on her.

Life was good. Life was too good, in fact.

They promised each other many things over the period they were together.

Bellamy didn't get the Berkeley job so he applied else where. They promised each other that they'd stay together no matter if Bellamy got that teaching job in San Francisco, that'd she'd visit on the weekdays after shift and he'd make the drive weekends, that nothing would change.

But everything did.

He moved, and they drifted apart, the distance only driving a subtle and unforeseen wedge between them. She loved him. She allowed herself to be vulnerable in his eyes and that is something she'd never done with pervious boyfriends… calling just a boyfriend was a definite understatement for he was simply so much more than that, but yet, he was just that.

Bellamy made his move to San Francisco, a mere forty-five minute drive from Berkeley that coming summer after a wonderful spring of halfhearted promises and quiet longing.

She spent the summer with him, not wanting to go back home to an empty house with a distant mother. And once again their summer was spent in the hot afternoon sun and long car rides to nowhere. From the Santa Cruz board beach walk thrills to, cotton candy, to heads sticking out car windows, mighty redwood tree's of California, to late nights and early mornings in that small but crazy expensive run down apartment with that tall brooding barista she only met the year before, Clarke's summer was almost endless.

Almost.

Because of course, Fall rolled around and her wonderful bubble was popped. She made her way back to Berkeley with her shoulders hung. It was fairly easy at first—being away from him. Or at least she repeated the phrase in her mind over and over until she came to accept it.

She hung the Georgescu painting above her bed in her suite and spent most of her free time staring at it. Whether it was to enjoy it or simply examine its technique the painting began to etch its way in to her heart, forming into the reminder of Bellamy himself.

The coffee shop felt empty, her car didn't feel like his—homey with the lacings of old worn tan leather and the comforting sound that faulted window made as air hissed through it. Non-the-less she defiantly felt his absence everywhere she went.

He came every weekend though, and she was grateful for that. It feel like normal, like life to her. Like if somehow she could breathe into the real world when she was around him not this plastic bag when without. It was strange to her to feel so attached to another human being, strong but wonderful with a silver lining of danger laced within it.

They'd spend weekends with friends on cozy rooftops with stringed lights and tequila, or on small road trips to where ever their hearts content.

Then he stopped coming and she stopped trying.

She doesn't know exactly what happened, there weren't any nasty fights, or any significant moments—not in the end. They simply fell out of love.

Day would pass and they wouldn't communicate. Clarke being busy with school and Bellamy with his new internship. They weren't the crazy type of relationship where they needed to constantly talk to each other every minutes of everyday, they were more simple. She would text good morning, and they'd make small conversation over text durning lunch—or even if something funny happened, one would tell the other.

Then weeks passed without a word and Clarke found herself questioning whether he was still out there, whether they were still something. But it was usually fixed with a drive down to San Francisco and a small talk. They lie to each other, making plans to meet and do that, experience this, but one or the other would always back out. Something always came up.

And finally Clarke had enough. She drove down to San Francisco and in the small of his kitchen table they ended things. It was mutual. They got out their last painful I love you's and kisses out of the way and then Clarke left leaving a part of her heart forever entangled in that apartment.

She still itches to text him when her wacky professor does something strangely funny, he itches to call her when he's alone with a beer. But they don't want to make it harder for each other so they stay away.

Clarke finds one of his old CD's when she's moving out of her dorm. Its an old Radiohead album of his and so she packs up to RadioHeads Creep. And to it's acoustically relatable soundings she makes drives north along the west coast.

Her move to Seattle is long a its been awhile since she been on a road trip for she hadn't taken one since Bellamy. But she takes pictures along the way and posts them to Facebook hoping he'll at least notice, see she's moving on.

Seattle is colder in the fall and she likes that. Her internship at Seattle Med is going well too, that is until she runs into Octavia Blake and her work and emotions suddenly come to a halt.

She's wearing scrubs and wondering around the hospital in a confident manner when they practically run into each other.

"I'm a nurse here, you know, just something to pay the bills until I find a better job." She explains over lunch. And the two talk effortlessly for they'd always gotten along well in the past and quickly become friends.

She mentions Bellamy once, twice. Stating his internship in San Francisco turned into a teaching position and he was getting transferred to Seattle in the winter, to which Clarke replies with tucking her hair behind her ear and nodding, attempting not to reveal the pounding heart in her chest.

Octavia quickly notices the tattoo and makes a small mumbled comment of "Hu, Bellamy had something just like that."

"Had?" Clarke questions in confusion. She's conflicted, why does she care?

"Yeah, I think he got it removed—or wanted to at least. Is that from something—?"

But the blond shakes her head. "No, not really." She lies not wanting to make it a big thing. And with that Octavia gets the que to change the subject.

It hurts her to look at the painting now. It's hung proudly above her couch in the new apartment at the moment. There was a time when it provided her with a sense of calmness, allowing her to wallow in a clear head, but those days are long gone and now it only reminds her of him.

Of them.

She stares at the canvas before her and in one swift movement she takes it off the wall and takes it down stairs into her apartments basement where she stores it in her gated private storage.

Then comes Christmas when Clarke hosts dinner inviting Octavia, her fiancee Lincoln, a few of their friends, and of course Bellamy.

It's the first time she see's Bellamy in years and she feels like she's seen a ghost. Somehow he seems more mature than before, she doesn't know if it's a factor of his dress shirt under a red sweater or the fact that he's brought wine but something about him is changed, and then again, there are a lot of things about her that have changed too.

"It's a small world Griffin." He greets with a small boyish smile he knows she can't resist. And she nods. "Nice to see you too, Bellamy." Its simple and smart. She immediately notices the tattoo still present behind his ear and smiles to herself, her insides warming up for a strange reason.

And for the rest of the evening she watches as he scans the walls of her apartment.

"You didn't keep it?" He asks once they have a moment to themselves, his breath echoed down the side of her throat and collarbone sending shivers down her spine. She instantly knows what he's talking about. But she kept a straight face not wanting to evoke anything else fro the interaction and replied with simply.

"Somethings you have to let go of, Bellamy."

But he can sense the tentative tone in her voice and doesn't bother to hesitate before calling her out on it.

"Are you sure about that, Princess?"

...


End file.
